


Carnelian

by wheel_pen



Series: Alice [28]
Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Naughtiness, Red Kryptonite, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-01
Updated: 2013-05-01
Packaged: 2017-12-10 02:36:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/780785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Red K strikes again. This story is unfinished.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carnelian

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Alice, my original female character, is new in Smallville. There is something special about her, and she and Clark form a relationship.
> 
> 2\. This series starts after the end of the second season—after the destruction of the spaceship and Clark abruptly leaving town.
> 
> 3\. Underage warning: This story may contain human or human-like teenagers, in high school, in sexual situations.
> 
> 4\. The bad words are censored. That’s just how I do things.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this AU. I own nothing and appreciate the chance to play in this universe.

            The sudden roar of the motorcycle outside the coffee shop made most of the patrons inside jump; Alice just rolled her eyes and was glad the mugs of hot beverages she carried weren’t actually as awkward as she pretended. She set the last two from her tray down on the colorful tables and handed some extra napkins to the young woman who had spilled tea all over her croissant, imagining the hotshot biker on the street as some scrawny 16-year-old who had just graduated from his training wheels and felt the need for some serious machinery to make up for perceived deficiencies elsewhere. Next thing you knew he’d probably be sneaking sips of Mommy and Daddy’s coffee.

            On the other hand, Alice reflected with a sudden feeling of unease, whenever things started to go screwy in Smallville—even a little bit—the cause could often be traced back to...

            Firm hands grabbed her possessively around the waist and spun her around; she allowed it instinctively, because standing rock-solid while someone literally fell over trying to move her would be a little suspicious... but the force applied was such that she didn’t have to fake it as much as she usually did. An instant later a mouth clamped down on hers, with scent and touch, sound and taste confirming exactly who it was that her closed eyes hadn’t seen. She responded automatically, happily, then told herself she shouldn’t be encouraging him and pulled back.

            Black leather jacket, so rebellious in a 1950’s kind of way but that still worked for Smallville. Dorky sunglasses he thought were cool, and which they both knew were completely unnecessary, dangling from a pocket. Green t-shirt—and why did that particular shirt never see the light of day under normal circumstances? It didn’t even have a rude saying or inappropriate rips to make it somehow less than respectable, unlike the black jeans which were pretty much painted on. Sometime she would have to tell him one didn’t usually see pants like that outside the gay nightclub districts of major cities like Gotham, but then again maybe that was the effect he was going for. Heavy black boots that she didn’t have a problem with at all, because she had several pairs just like them.

            The most important accessory she hadn’t found yet, but its presence was obvious. “Your eyes are red,” Alice pointed out with disapproval, staring clinically into his normally luminous green eyes, now tinged unnaturally with scarlet.

            Clark grinned, and she couldn’t quite describe how, but even that was different from his usual open-hearted, megawatt smile. More of a smirk, perhaps, mischievous at the very least. “I know,” he agreed, as if it were a delightful occurrence. He leaned in to steal another kiss, giving her a very un-Clark-like shake when she tried to pull back. Fortunately it didn’t hurt her, although anyone else would have been bruised. Still, it peeved Alice and she used a little more force than was necessary shoving his arms off her waist before she stepped back to look over him critically.

            “Alright, where is it?” she finally asked. No ruby-red ring on his finger, no gemstone-shaped bulge in the jacket pockets she patted down. No need to check the pants, even a paperclip would have shown in sharp relief through the straining denim.

            He grinned again, wrapped his arms around her, and hauled her back, picking her feet up from the floor. The fact that they were still in the middle of a fairly crowded coffee shop failed to cross Alice’s mind for a good thirty seconds.

            “I think I inhaled it,” he finally sighed, nibbling her earlobe.

            It felt better than it should have. “Are you serious?” Alice tried to sound exasperated, but it came out more like... distracted.

            “Mmm-hmm.” He sounded a little distracted himself. “I think near Bigelow’s pond this morning.”

            “Well that’s what you get for breathing,” Alice told him, and she really didn’t mean to make light of it, but Aggressive!Clark never gave her much time to figure out what she _ought_ to be saying. The sudden hum of one of the espresso machines kicking on sounded loudly in Alice’s ears, and she was reminded of their surroundings. Firmly she untangled herself from Clark’s grasp and stepped back decisively. “I have to work.”

            He pouted at her, all full lips and green eyes and tousled dark hair. “You work too hard,” he cooed, and Clark _never_ cooed, at least in public. “Let’s go have some fun.”

            “You should go home and... detox,” Alice replied, reluctant but resolute. “Have you seen your parents yet?”

            The reminder of unpleasant authority figures narrowed Clark’s gaze and the adorable pout turned petulant. “Why does everyone always want to stop me from having fun?” he demanded, his tone dangerously close to a whine.

            Why did these things always have to happen in the middle of the Talon on a busy day? As if their lives weren’t stressful enough, Alice thought. Granted, the gossip mill paled in comparison to Kryptonite-altered mutants who could transform into poisonous amphibians, but when you didn’t have the mutants, the gossip mill was still pretty ugly.

            Not to mention the fact that food and rent and thigh-high black snakeskin boots with four-inch heels still cost _money_ , which one earned at a _job_ , which Alice was going to lose one of these days if she had too many unexplained absences. She stared Clark down and told him with a touch of annoyance, “ _I_ have to work right now. I don’t have time to babysit you.” She turned on her heel and headed back towards the counter, hoping for once he might do the sensible thing and lay low until the red K was out of his system. Alice truly believed the rare meteorite had a powerful effect on Clark’s emotional state; but at the same time, it _wasn’t_ exactly analogous to being drunk or high. He was still in complete control of his body, his mind wasn’t sluggish or disoriented, he knew who he was and where he was and what was expected of him... he just didn’t _care_. Alice didn’t think he could _make_ himself care, but she believed he _could_ make himself behave. If he chose to.

            What Clark chose to do was stay at the coffee shop, sauntering up to the counter and settling in while Alice eyed him warily and ran off a few more orders. She supposed it was better than him stomping out the door and setting the building on fire in a fit of rage, but at the same time she couldn’t quite believe he was giving in that easily. Even if he _was_ unrepentantly stealing pastries from the display case as he waited.

            After a few quiet minutes Alice almost partially stopped thinking about him, busy with a rush of customers who didn’t know quite what they wanted, but were positive she hadn’t brought them the right thing and were extremely put out about it. Sometimes setting the building on fire didn’t sound like such a bad idea. Then Lana came out from the back room, where she’d been supervising a new hire in the linen inventory, and Alice suddenly stopped paying attention to the customer who couldn’t decide between an iced soy latte and a mocha espresso and focused in on the conversation taking place at the counter.

            “Hey, Lana,” Clark greeted, a little too loudly.

            Lana smiled automatically but glanced over him with some apprehension, then checked surreptitiously for Alice’s position. On a normal person, a black leather jacket and green t-shirt would not make a noteworthy outfit, but Clark Kent was _far_ from a normal person, and the only times Lana had seen him wear that clothing in the past had been rather memorable. The smell of the leather, that slightly-too-adult quirk to his smile, the way his eyes that normally held steady with hers occasionally flickered downward to her chest—she remembered the first time she had seen him like this in the Talon, when he’d told her he’d had feelings for her for a long time, grabbed her and kissed her in front of everyone... and then taken her on a date to some grubby bar she ended up stomping out of when he decided that trampy Jessie was more fun. Somehow, as she looked into those oddly gleaming green eyes, Lana seemed to forget that last part.

            “Um, hi, Clark,” she finally stammered, and his grin grew.

            “You know, Lana,” he told her quietly, leaning forward across the bar, “you look really _hot_ in that shirt.” Lana’s eyes widened as she decided there was absolutely _no_ way he was merely saying she was overdressed for the weather, but she felt rooted to her spot behind the counter as he loomed even nearer, his weight on his elbows. “I was thinkin’, you could let Alice off early today...” Oh, he sounded so reasonable, so persuasive, with that low, seductive voice... “...she needs to have a little fun, don’t you think? And you should come with us. I don’t think the _three_ of us spend enough time together...”

            Lana’s jaw hit the tiled floor. “Okay!” Alice shouted suddenly from across the room, turning to face them with an exasperated expression. Clark smirked and sat back on the stool, not bothering to look behind him. Lana was torn between hoping Alice had heard Clark’s proposition to her, and hoping that she _hadn’t_.

            “So what do you say?” he prompted, in a more normal tone of voice. He might have been asking her to study with them or something, she thought dizzily. “You up for a little... experimentation?”

            Lana’s attention was finally drawn by the high-speed, determined, and rather peeved approach of her best waitress. “Um, I, um...” she stammered, backing up from the force of Alice’s glare.

            “Why don’t we call Chloe, too?” Clark suggested happily. “Tell her to wear that red and black shirt, you know, the really tight one that shows off her—“

            That was the moment Alice clamped a hand down on his shoulder with painful force, turning an incredibly fake placating smile on her boss. “Lana, I’m sorry,” Alice began, as Clark squirmed underneath her, “would you mind if I took the afternoon off? I’ll work a double Saturday to make up for it.”

            “Um, go ahead,” Lana replied, figuring that was the safe choice. Alice glared at Clark as she untied her apron; he merely grinned back. Lana’s eyes flickered between the two of them and she finally dared ask, “Um, is anything wrong?”

            Both Alice and Clark turned to stare at her. “Yes,” Alice answered grimly.

            “No,” Clark answered cheerfully at the same time. “So, you’re going to call Chloe and meet us at Alice’s house?”

            Alice hauled her boyfriend bodily off the stool and dragged him towards the door of the Talon. “Someone’s gone off his medication again,” Alice commented to Lana, smiling tensely.

            “Hey, call Lex, too,” Clark shouted back, across the room. “That’ll make it a _real_ orgy!” Alice rolled her eyes heavenward, face flushing, and yanked him harder through the doorway, nearly colliding with Pete in her haste. She was about to apologize when Clark added to him, “Sorry about not including _you_ , man, but it would just be weird.”

            Pete started to say something, looking appropriately alarmed, but Alice shook her head. “I’ll take care of him, don’t worry.” Then they were finally out on the street, Clark having gotten his way.


End file.
